


Puppy Love

by fucker



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Knotting, M/M, Size Difference, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucker/pseuds/fucker
Summary: What has four paws, a tail, and a woozy but shockingly open-minded detective on his couch?
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Nevada Ramirez
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nevadatrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevadatrash/gifts).



> I wish I could say that I wrote this ages ago and was saving it to post at a more appropriate time, but it actually just took a year to write. 
> 
> Happy Howloween 🐺

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank and/or blame [Anni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill) for the fact that literally any of this got posted at all 😭

Sonny peered down between the two buildings, squinting to block out the light bleeding into the alley from the street as he took a tentative step forward. The wet snuffling that had stopped him in his tracks was louder now, and he could hear trash bags rustling as something pawed through them— an opossum, maybe, or a raccoon, but it sounded much bigger.

" _Here, boy_."

His suspicions were confirmed when a pair of yellow eyes appeared just below waist level with another soft rustle and blinked up at him. He took two more slow steps, hands extended in front of himself, and dropped to a squat, making himself smaller so that he wouldn't seem as much of a threat. The dog blinked again but stayed where it was, staring at him from the safety of its hiding spot behind the dumpster.

"C'mere," Sonny urged, patting his thighs in encouragement and making a series of kissy noises at the dog to no avail.

A sudden stroke of genius had him reaching for the leftovers in his coat pocket, and while they might have been stone cold they certainly smelled good, even to a human nose. A few chicken fingers and half a serving of pork fried rice from his favorite Chinese spot, and only a couple hours old at that. He unwrapped the food, taking great care not to make any sudden movements, and held it out at arms length.

"Good boy, I'm not gonna hurt you." He placed the foil on the pavement and pushed it forward, watching in dismay as the dog disappeared behind the dumpster again. 

" _Hey_ ," he coaxed. The back corner was too dark to get a good look, even with the moonlight, and he shuffled a few inches forward, pulling his phone out to use the flashlight only to find that it had died in his pocket. 

"Hey, c'mon." He sighed and halfheartedly wiggled the tinfoil again. The dog snuffled but remained out of sight this time, and while Sonny didn't want to traumatize the stray by physically hauling it out of its hiding place, it was late and beginning to rain again, and he had to get home. He stepped closer to the dumpster, sure to keep talking so as not to spook the poor thing. "Let's get you home, little guy."

" _Jesuchristo_."

Sonny shot to his feet and whipped around, reaching for the gun that wasn't there, but nobody was behind him. Instinct kicked in and he dropped to a half-crouch, pressing himself against the brick wall and edging back towards the entrance to the alley, just far enough to peer around the corner and confirm that the street was clear.

" _Wrong way_."

The man's voice was louder now, and Sonny spun back towards the dog with both fists raised, the alley now seemingly twice as dark after his pupils had adjusted to the well-lit street. 

"Is someone there? Hello?" His vision was blurred slightly by the moonlight shining on the wet pavement, but something was moving back there. Some _one_ , he realized, as his eyes began to readjust and the shadowy outline of a head and shoulders slowly materialized at the far end of the alley. "Hey, is this your dog?"

The man turned, and Sonny's limbs turned to lead as two yellow eyes blinked at him over the dumpster. His brain was screaming at him to run but his legs were refusing to move, and the detective was helpless to do anything but watch him step out into the middle of the alley. He looked down at the crumpled tinfoil in front of him, one lip curled in disdain, before kicking the leftovers back towards Sonny with a low growl. 

" _I don't want your fuckin' rice_."

Suddenly unparalyzed, Sonny turned to bolt, slipped on the wet asphalt, and went headfirst into solid brick.

* * *

He awoke to arrhythmic tapping and the sound of muffled gunfire, just familiar enough that his brain held the panic response back long enough for him to gather his senses.

He was laying on a couch in an unfamiliar room, a thick comforter tucked around his legs and pulled up to his chin. His head ached and the noise was only making it worse— the shots were coming from a television by his feet, and the tapping was coming from the armchair across from him, occupied by the blurry figure of a rather large man wielding an Xbox controller, his attention trained on the TV.

The angle wasn't fantastic, but what Sonny could see on the screen confirmed that it was Battlegrounds. _Two_ Battlegrounds, in fact. He blinked a few times, the second phantom television swimming closer, then slowly merging with the first as his depth perception stabilized.

He glanced back at the man in the chair, no longer blurry, and very nearly passed out again. It was the eyes that drew his attention first; a warm, striking gold, set deep in a terrifyingly inhuman skull. His head was somewhere between a German Shepard and a husky in shape, though easily twice the size, and the rest of him was just as colossal. 

He appeared to be too absorbed in his game to either notice or care that Sonny was awake, but that illusion was shattered almost instantly. 

"Morning, sunshine."

It was jarring to hear a human voice coming from what appeared to be a dog's muzzle, but Sonny recognized it as the one from the alley. He remained still and said nothing, keeping his eyes open just a slit and resisting the urge to scream for help. 

"Your heart rate just tripled, you can stop pretending." 

The creature in the chair sounded more disinterested than anything, and Sonny slowly opened his eyes, trying very hard not to make eye contact. 

"There you go, welcome back."

He didn't like his options. The door wasn't far, but to reach it he'd have to pass within inches of the stranger. There was a set of narrow stairs on the opposite wall that led up to a second floor, and another door behind him, likely leading to a bedroom and quite possibly a fire escape, but without knowing the layout of the apartment it would take him far too long to manufacture an escape route on the fly. He turned his focus back to the stranger, reluctant to do so but not seeing any other option. 

"You're not gonna... eat me?" His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, and he wondered how long he'd been out. 

"After you pissed yourself and ate pavement? I'm not a fuckin' animal."

"After I..." Sonny shifted a leg, half expecting to feel damp, itchy denim but instead discovering that he was naked under the blanket. "Why— you— _my clothes?_ "

"Had to go. I burned 'em out back." He let Sonny angrily open and close his mouth several times before finally relenting. " _Calmate_ , I'm joking. They're in the wash."

" _Fuck is wrong with you_ ," Sonny muttered under his breath, pulling the comforter tighter. 

"Wrong with me? For not wanting my couch to smell like a half dozen cats had their way with it?"

"You— you weren't joking about that part?"

"Nope. You should be drinking more water."

"Gee, thanks for the analysis."

The man— _man?_ — laughed, displaying far more teeth than the detective was comfortable with. "I'll give you an analysis, alright."

"What the hell does that mean?" Sonny crossed his arms with a scowl, the defensive posture doing absolutely nothing to hide the flush creeping up his neck. He got a smirk in response but, thankfully, no answer to his question, and he hastily took the opportunity to change the subject. "Who are you? How did I get here, anyway?"

"Carried you."

"Oh." Sonny eyed him with curiosity, wondering whether it was a struggle to haul his limp body however many blocks it had been. "Thank you, I guess."

The stranger acknowledged Sonny's thanks with a grunt, his eyes not leaving the TV for a second as he continued to tap aggressively at the buttons on his controller. "Fuck knows what someone would do to an unconscious cop these days."

"What? How do you—?"

"Went through your shit. Dominick Carisi Junior, huh?"

"Just Sonny."

"Just Sonny," the man repeated absentmindedly, expertly taking out a pair of enemies with a dozen well-placed shots. 

The detective tried not to look too impressed. He was still being largely ignored, so he took a moment to size the man up while he was preoccupied with rifling through a small selection of virtual armor and health packs. 

He was covered head to toe in glossy dark grey fur save for a single blonde-ish patch that wrapped around his left shoulder and blended seamlessly into the fur of his chest. One tufted ear twitched in annoyance as Sonny heard the unmistakable sound of his armor taking damage, and two enormous hands dwarfed the controller while somehow remaining nimble enough to rack up kill after kill. His reflexes were remarkable, and Sonny found himself very glad that he hadn't tried to make a run for it. 

Despite the fact that it was difficult to tell just how much of his mass was fur, he appeared to be well-built; broad shoulders spanning the full width of the armchair and substantial thighs filling out the comically small basketball shorts he had on. His legs weren’t the only thing filling out his shorts, though, and Sonny’s eyes widened as they skimmed the considerable bulge before he could stop himself.

He guiltily glanced away, returning his attention to the man's face, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was displaying no intention of completing the introductions, but Sonny pressed him on it regardless: "So what do I call you?"

"How 'bout Daddy?"

Sonny wasn't sure if that was a crack at his nickname or something else, but there was an implication there that he neither wanted to consider nor address at all, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind before his discomfort became obvious. "Sparky, did you say?"

" _Fuck you_."

The man finally tore his attention away from the television for a moment to glare at Sonny, who very much regretted letting his mouth get away from him. He held the man's gaze for what felt like minutes on end, wondering if he should apologize while trying not to squirm in discomfort.

A hint of a grin finally tugged at the stranger's lips and he bent two fingers, scratching his jaw with a pair of terrifyingly large claws as his expression softened slightly and he considered the detective for a long moment. 

"Name's Nevada," he finally offered.

"What, like the state?"

" _Fuck_." The man snarled and threw the controller into the neighboring chair with enough force that it stuck face-down between the cushions, revealing three deep gouges in the battery casing. " _Maldito tramposos_."

Startled by the outburst, Sonny pulled himself upright and drew both knees to his chest, huddling in the far corner of the couch as he scanned the room out of the corner of his eye for anything that could be used as a weapon. There was a table lamp behind him, just within reach if he stretched, that looked to be solid brass, and he slowly began to inch his fingers towards it, keeping his eyes fixed forward in an attempt to draw as little attention as possible. He didn't even make it halfway before Nevada glanced at his shaky, outstretched arm and laughed. 

"Relax, you're fine."

Sonny didn't feel fine, and he _certainly_ didn't feel like relaxing. He opened his mouth to make that very well known, but Nevada cut him off. 

"'M gonna stand up, look the other way or something."

"What? Why?"

"Don't want you pissing my couch, too."

"You're fucking insane if you think that I'm turning my back on— _oh_."

Nevada pushed himself to his feet, and Sonny felt his balls crawl up into his body, his stomach twisting with fear as he finally got a sense of the man's true size. He pulled the comforter up to his nose as if it would somehow protect him, wishing he wasn't completely naked and defenseless, although there wasn't a single situation— clothed, armed, or otherwise— in which he'd ever stand a chance. 

"Told you."

"How..." Sonny's throat tightened and his voice cracked as Nevada stretched with both arms over his head, the thick muscles along his ribs visibly flexing under his fur as he twisted from side to side.

"Seven foot eight. Without the ears.” Nevada flattened his ears against his head to demonstrate, nostrils flaring slightly as he looked the detective over with mild curiosity. "You smell scared as shit."

Sonny didn't trust himself to deny it. He shrugged, unsure if Nevada could truly smell the fear on him or whether he was simply picking up on the less-than-subtle body language. 

"You want something for that?"

"For what."

"For your nerves, _pendejo_."

"Oh." He cleared his throat in an unsuccessful attempt to banish the tremor from his voice. "Sure, why not?"

"We have beer, liquor, Oxy. Weed," Nevada gestured at the coffee table; at a cigar box sitting atop a small hoard of loose rolling papers that had gone unnoticed by Sonny until now. "Help yourself. Might have some Ket left, if—"

" _Jesus, stop, stop_ ," Sonny raised a hand to cut him off. "Christ, I thought you meant like... a _backrub_ or something. Some Enya, maybe."

Nevada flexed his fingers again, both hands this time. Ten deadly-looking claws slid out and he cocked his head at Sonny, smirking slightly as the detective grimaced and pulled the blanket tighter. "A backrub, huh?"

"Um." He eyed Nevada warily, suppressing a sigh of relief as he sheathed his claws again. "Maybe just a beer."

Nevada turned to round the kitchen counter, and while his frame may have appeared hulking and unwieldy, Sonny had to admire the surprising grace with which he moved. He stooped to rummage through the fridge for a moment, and Sonny quickly realized why his shorts were so ill-fitting— not only were they too small, but his tail had forced the waistband halfway down his ass, stretching the elastic to its limits.

Turning back without warning, Nevada elbowed the fridge shut, and Sonny found himself staring directly at his dick again. He quickly blinked and shifted his gaze, focusing very intently on the floorboards as Nevada padded back over to the sitting area with three bottles that Sonny recognized as Pumpkinhead. Appropriate, yet somehow surprising. One he set on the coffee table; the other two were each pinned between his incisors and cracked open in turn. 

"Thanks." Sonny nervously accepted the beer offered to him with both hands, trying not to look at the pair of bottle caps that Nevada dropped onto the coffee table, the aluminum punctured clean through. "Who's we, by the way?"

"What?"

"You said 'we have beer'. And... all that other stuff."

"Yeah, we." Nevada downed a considerable amount of his drink in three big gulps, then gestured between himself and Sonny. "Us. The two of us. We have those things in the house. Why, I look broke enough to have a roommate or something?"

"What you _look_ like is an enormous fucking dog."

"Wh— a _dog_? I look like a dog to you?" Nevada shot him a scathing look of disbelief. "It's a full moon, _genio_. You ever read a comic book or seen a movie?"

"Full..." It clicked and Sonny blinked several times, slowly processing that information. "A— a werewolf?"

Nevada raised his eyebrows and gestured at himself in affirmation, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. 

Sonny frowned in thought, nursing his beer for a long moment. "No you aren't."

"No?"

"Werewolves aren't real."

"Huh." Nevada polished off his drink and reached for the other bottle, tossing a third mutilated bottle cap onto the table. "Can't argue with that. Guess you better help me get this thing off, then."

"What?"

"This ridiculous fuckin' costume." Nevada stood and reached over his shoulder, feeling around the base of his neck. "Zipper's around here somewhere, gimme a hand."

Sonny was overwhelmingly relieved, so much so that he found himself shaking as his muscles finally began to let go of the tension they'd been holding for the last thirty minutes. There was a tiny stab of disappointment in there too, but he diligently ignored it.

Setting his drink down, Nevada skirted the coffee table and crouched with his back to Sonny, his head bowed to give the detective access to the back of his neck. Sonny dug his fingers into thick fur in search of the zipper, feeling along the ridge of Nevada's spine, but came up empty-handed. He tried again, lower this time, with the same result. 

"I can't find—"

" _Of course there's no fuckin' zipper_." Nevada stood and glared down at Sonny, who shrank back into the couch with his hands half-raised, prepared to defend himself if necessary. "You think I been sitting here all night in a fursuit or some shit for no reason?"

"You—" Sonny's brain was struggling to keep up, processing and re-processing this surreal information. "You're..."

"You can say it."

"You're really a... a werewolf?"

"I may be a criminal, but I ain't a liar." 

Sonny didn't ask, praying that he was referring to the drugs and not something else. He watched Nevada flop back down into his chair, his gaze drawn to the man's junk yet again as it pressed obscenely into the front of his shorts.

"My eyes are up here, you know."

Sonny jerked his eyes up, face and ears on fire. Nevada's expression wasn't angry, but the look of smug amusement on his face was somehow worse. 

"If you wanna see it just ask."

He wasn't bluffing his way out of this, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying. "See what?"

"I can smell fear," Nevada reminded him. "You think I can't smell pheromones? You fucking _reek_."

"Christ, I just thought you'd maybe have the manners not to mention it." Sonny scowled, bunched the blanket up over his crotch, and sat back with his arms crossed, glaring defiantly at Nevada despite the color rising on his cheeks. 

"And I thought you'd maybe have the manners not to wake up on _my_ couch in _my_ apartment and ask me if I was gonna eat you." Nevada's slow, deliberate inflection on the last two words made Sonny's stomach tighten despite the fact that he was simply repeating the detective's words from earlier. "Either offer to suck it or quit staring."

Sonny scowled. He was saved from having to defend himself by a buzzing noise from the other room, so loud it made him jump a bit. Embarrassment largely forgotten, he looked at Nevada with alarm that was quickly tempered by the other man's entirely unbothered expression.

"Go put your shit in the dryer." Nevada made a shoo-ing motion in the general direction of the other room.

"Fine." The detective assessed his situation, carefully repositioning the blanket under his arms and around his chest so that— fingers crossed— nothing would be exposed when he stood. "Don't look."

"Nothing I ain't already seen, _flaquito_."

" _Don't look_."

"Alright, shit, I'm not looking." Nevada rolled his eyes but averted his gaze nonetheless, and Sonny pushed himself to his feet, slowly backing towards the door hanging slightly ajar next to the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I cut it into two chapters because it wasn't quite done in time, don't be mad at me 🙈


	2. Chapter 2

He'd been right; it was a bedroom. The blinds were drawn, leaving him to fumble for a moment in near-darkness, finally locating the light switch next to the door. The bathroom was off to his left, but Sonny took a moment to examine the room. The bed— a California king, for what he supposed were obvious reasons— was unmade, although other than that the room was surprisingly neat with few personal details. There was a couch in front of the windows with a few items of black clothing draped over one arm, a pair of boots by the door, a pack of cigarettes and a couple condoms on the nightstand. He certainly couldn't prove it, but he strongly suspected that the room had been tidied while he was out cold.

Nevada may have been smug and crass and all sorts of irritating, but Sonny still wasn't about to drag his king-sized down comforter across the bathroom floor. He glanced back at the bedroom door to ensure that he was alone, dropped the blanket, and quickly ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself.

His phone, keys, wallet, and badge were sitting on the dryer, along with a handful of change and a few crumpled receipts that must have been in his pockets. He fished his clothes out of the washer and risked a sniff, but thankfully they smelled of nothing more than laundry detergent. The dryer settings were a bit foreign, so he picked one at random. His jeans shrinking slightly in there was the least of his worries right now. 

A quick glance in the mirror showed that he'd been patched up, a small square of gauze neatly taped above his right eyebrow. He gently prodded at it, unsurprised to find that the spot was very sore, but it didn't appear to be swollen or bleeding at all. If it was serious he could worry about it later. He washed his hands and face, careful to keep the bandage dry, then splashed some cool water over his flushed neck and chest.

He nearly had a coronary when he opened the door to find Nevada sitting on the bed a few feet away. The detective instinctively clapped one hand over his crotch and the other over his pounding heart, slumping against the doorframe to steady himself. 

" _What the fuck, Nevada_."

"Sorry, gotta piss."

His size was much harder to ignore up close. Seated, he was an inch or two shy of the detective in height and twice as broad. Sonny, taller than average and happy with that status, wasn't used to feeling small, and he wasn't liking the feeling. He gathered the blanket from the floor with one hand, stepped out of the bathroom and inched back towards the living room, keeping his back to the wall and as much distance between Nevada and himself as possible. 

Nevada stayed where he was, smirking slightly at his slow, awkward retreat. Sonny didn't appreciate being a source of amusement and he stopped in his tracks, glaring at Nevada. "Well?" 

Nevada cocked his head to one side, watching Sonny shift restlessly on his feet. "You're curious."

"Who the fuck wouldn't be curious? You're a ten-foot-tall walking, talking wolf."

"Seven," he corrected. "And you know 's not what I meant."

"Are you gonna piss or what?"

Nevada disappeared into the bathroom with a grin, and Sonny noted that he had to duck considerably in order to fit through the doorway. He didn't bother closing the door behind himself, and Sonny wrinkled his nose as he heard the unmistakable sound of a steady stream hitting the toilet. A flush followed, then the sound of running water, and Nevada emerged from the bathroom a moment later, shorts in one hand and phone in the other. He didn't look surprised to see Sonny sitting on the bed, but he did look pleased. 

"You _are_ curious." Nevada scratched his stomach, following the detective's gaze to where his cock had just begun to slip out of its sheath. He covered himself with a hand rather than winding Sonny up again, for which the detective was extremely grateful. "Reflex, sorry. What do you wanna know?"

"Did you...?" Sonny pointed to the bandage on his temple and got a nod in response. "Is it bad?"

"'S just a scrape."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Welcome. Can I?" He pointed at the bed next to Sonny, who scooted over to make room for him to sit.

"It's your bed." Sonny felt slightly uneasy being so close to Nevada, but he was doing his best to hide that fact. "You don't mind if I ask you questions?"

"Go 'head."

"Can I see your hand? Or, um... paw?"

Nevada offered his forearm to Sonny, who took it in both hands. His upper extremities were mostly human; each arm was jointed at the shoulder, elbow, and wrist, and each hand had four articulated fingers and a thumb, although the glaring lack of fingernails gave his hands an oddly alien appearance. His fur was coarse but surprisingly soft, and Sonny had to resist the urge to run his fingers through it, unsure if petting him would be considered disrespectful or even offensive. 

He turned Nevada's hand over, revealing pads like a dog's— a large heart-shaped one covering the majority of his palm and smaller, oval ones on each fingertip. _Beans_ , he thought, smiling to himself. He gently squeezed one massive fingertip and Nevada obliged, slipping a single claw out for the detective to examine. Up close, it appeared to be more similar to a cat's claw than a dog's; curved and tapered to a fine point that was clearly designed for piercing and tearing.

"Careful with that."

Sonny ignored the warning, dragging the pad of his thumb over the tip of Nevada's claw. It was needle-sharp, catching on the shallow ridges of his fingerprint and setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end, drawing goosebumps out across his bare shoulders. A minute shiver was enough to send the deadly point through his skin, and he hissed in surprise, pulling his hand back to watch a single drop of blood slowly well up in the microscopic puncture wound.

" _Te lo dije_."

Before Sonny could react, Nevada took him by the wrist, pulled his hand to his mouth, and licked his thumb clean.

" _Hey!_ " The detective sprang to his feet and retreated to the bathroom doorway, clutching his hand as if he'd been burned while struggling to keep the blanket around himself at the same time. He narrowed his eyes accusingly at Nevada. "You said you weren't gonna eat me."

"Just wanted a taste." Nevada rolled his eyes at Sonny's look of indignation. "Don't look at me like that, you're the one that stabbed yourself with it."

"It's _my_ blood." Sonny realized how ridiculous that sounded and scowled harder, ignoring the amused grin on Nevada's face. "Where are the bandaids?"

"You don't need one."

He was right. Sonny had already stopped bleeding, but that didn't stop him from glaring daggers at Nevada from the relative safety of the bathroom. 

"Come back." Nevada patted the bed where Sonny had been sitting. "You can keep the rest of your blood, I swear."

Sonny ignored him, making a point of thoroughly rinsing his thumb under the bathroom tap where Nevada could see. He shot an insolent look at the man as he dried his hands on the blanket, then returned to the bedroom and slid down the wall opposite him, settling on the floor a comfortable distance away.

"How did you...?" He gestured at Nevada in a broad, circular motion. 

"Radioactive wolf bit me."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

Sonny’s brain was fried from enduring extended levels of stress, fear, and adrenaline, and he neither knew nor particularly cared what was real anymore. He shrugged.

"'S genetic. Hereditary."

"It isn't... contagious?"

Nevada's expression softened as he realized why Sonny was so reluctant to join him on the bed again. "No, you can't catch it."

"Hmm." Sonny glanced at his thumb again, seemingly satisfied with that response. There was nothing to see; not even the tiniest of marks remaining. "You're a human, then?"

"Usually."

"Did you really carry me all the way here?"

"Mhmm."

Sonny set his chin in his hands, considering Nevada for a long moment. "Prove it," he finally said.

The rush he felt at watching Nevada get to his feet and pad over to where he was seated on the floor came out of nowhere, and he felt a wave of lightheadedness as Nevada towered over him. Sonny hadn't noticed it before, but while his tail was just long enough to brush the floor, he kept it slightly curled to avoid that happening. It was something so mundane that it could have gone unnoticed, but at the same time it was in such stark contrast to his otherwise careless demeanor that it somehow served to humanize him.

Nevada leaned against the wall above him, letting the detective take a moment to gather his nerves. Sonny's head was still spinning a bit, but the fear that he'd felt earlier had completely dissipated and was showing no signs of returning. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and looked up expectantly. 

" _¿'Stás seguro?_ "

Sonny took a deep breath and nodded, quickly finding himself unprepared for the ease with which he was scooped up. He gasped in surprise, briefly airborne as he was tossed onto the bed, then blinked up at Nevada from the sheets. "How are you that strong?"

Nevada laughed. "Are you flirting with me?"

Sonny shouldn't have had to consider that question, because the answer should've been an immediate and resounding _no_. _No, I am not flirting with a Hulk-sized wolf who could rip me to shreds without breaking a sweat_. "I think so," he said. 

Nevada's eyes widened in surprise— perhaps at the honest admission, perhaps at the straightforwardness, or perhaps at the detective's lack of any sort of self-preservation instincts— and Sonny realized for the first time that they were actually green. A dull, oak green flecked with bits of gold, though the gold was the only color that caught the light, giving him those gorgeous, striking rings around his pupils from a distance.

"Is it working?" Sonny asked. 

"I think so."

"Hmm." He leveled his eyes at Nevada's crotch to clarify the next question: "So was that really a reflex?"

Nevada settled on the bed next to him, stretched, and leaned back on his elbows, exposing his stomach for Sonny's appraisal. "Go ahead, see for yourself."

Sonny hesitantly ran his hand through the fur on his lower belly, scratching just above his hip like he'd watched Nevada do moments earlier. Muscles twitched under his fingers and the head of Nevada's cock emerged from its sheath again, a surprisingly delicate shade of pink against his dark fur and slightly slick with what Sonny presumed was some sort of precome. What he could see looked human enough, although he found himself wondering what, if anything, remained hidden. What, and how much. 

"When you said you'd give me an analysis, did you mean...?" Nevada's grin answered that question for him, and Sonny felt himself flush slightly.

"Interested?"

Sonny said nothing. He rubbed Nevada’s belly again, leaned over, and placed a kiss just below the head of his cock. Nevada inhaled sharply, his stomach tightening under Sonny's fingers as the detective made his intentions well known with his lips and tongue. 

" _Mírame_." He put a hand under Sonny's chin, gently pulled his head up, and turned his face from side to side in search of any fear or apprehension. "I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do."

"I won’t," Sonny promised. He repositioned himself between Nevada's legs and kissed him again, just above where he disappeared into his soft sheath, then dragged his tongue up the full length of his cock. 

Nevada laid back with a heavy sigh, fingers rhythmically curling and uncurling at his sides as Sonny's lips followed the contour of his crown before parting to let him slip inside. Sonny continued to stroke slow, gentle circles into Nevada's fur, glad to have something to do with his hands as he hollowed his cheeks and took another inch.

"I don't usually do this, y'know."

"Do what?" Sonny hadn't realized how much precome Nevada was capable of producing, and he ended up drooling a bit as he answered.

"Fuck around with humans."

He wasn't sure if that meant ever or just on full moons. The implication that he fucked around with _non_ -humans wasn't lost on the detective either, and he had to wonder how many others there were, and whether or not the list ended with werewolves. 

Nevada was staring stoically at the ceiling, and the sudden lapse in confidence made Sonny sit back on his heels in worry. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Christ, no, I just..." Nevada looked more than a bit unsure of himself, tail twitching with nerves and ears perked all the way up to gauge Sonny's reactions without having to look at him. "Is it okay?"

"Yes. I— I like it, I mean," Sonny pressed two fingers to his lower lip. "It tingles, though?"

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"I don't know yet." He licked his lips, the tip of his tongue slightly numb. "Is that normal?"

"Mmm. Natural anaesthetic or something like that." Nevada dragged two fingers up his shaft and held them out for Sonny to see, his fingertips coated with the clear, slick fluid. Sonny licked the fingers offered to him clean without thinking about it, and Nevada blinked in surprise. 

He repeated the motion, watching with very apparent approval as the detective licked up more of his precome without hesitation. It was slightly bitter at the back of Sonny's throat, though not enough to be unpleasant and otherwise completely flavorless. He wasn't offered any more; likely for the best, as his mouth had already gone quite numb. 

"Huh." Nevada tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across his chest, absentmindedly scratching at the light patch of fur. "I like you, Sonny."

"Oh, good." The detective slipped his fingers under Nevada's cock and closed a fist around him, giving him a slow, tight stroke. "I wasn't sure."

Nevada— faster than his size ever should've allowed— reached down, hauled Sonny to his knees, and flipped him face down onto the bed, pinning him in place with one heavy arm before the detective could blink. "Lucky I like you _and_ your smart mouth."

His considerable weight shifted and Sonny found himself almost fully immobilized, Nevada straddling his ass while keeping one hand between his shoulders with just enough pressure to prevent him from moving his neck more than a few inches in any direction. 

Somehow, Sonny didn't feel like he was in any particular danger. He turned his head to the left as far as he could, grinning up at Nevada with a shocking amount of confidence for a man who was rendered all but helpless. "Gonna do something about it?"

"Mmm." Sonny's blanket had fallen to the floor several minutes ago, and Nevada pressed his cock between the detective's bare cheeks, slowly rutting against his tailbone. "What do you think?"

"I think trying new things builds character."

Nevada snorted, carelessly spreading him with one hand and letting his erection brush the detective's rim, the direct contact making him shudder slightly. "'Bout to build you a whole new fuckin' personality, then."

"Money where your mouth is."

"Don't move." 

Nevada's weight receded for a moment, and Sonny obediently remained still, watching out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved a small bottle of lube and a condom from the nightstand before returning to his previous position. 

"Cold," he warned.

He spread Sonny again, upending the bottle over his ass, squeezing a generous amount of slick directly onto his entrance, and beginning to spread it with a thumb, and Sonny hissed in surprise despite the warning. He couldn't quite swallow a whine, feeling himself open up to the slow, easy strokes around and across his hole until the tip of Nevada's finger was able to slip inside without resistance. He shuddered, instinctively clenching against the intrusion, but it was already gone. 

"I'll wear this if you want me to, but I can't catch or spread anything right now." Nevada held the condom out between two fingers, making sure it was in the detective's line of sight.

Sonny barely even had to consider it. _Criminal, not a liar_ , he reminded himself. He plucked the foil packet from Nevada's fingers and flicked it across the bed, watching with satisfaction as it slid off the far end. 

"You should hear the way your heart's beating right now." Nevada nipped gently at the back of Sonny's neck, drawing a sharp gasp from him as he broke out in goosebumps again. "You like it raw. Turns you on."

Sonny felt his face heat up as he realized that Nevada was going to be able to read every single one of his reactions, verbal or not, and there was nothing he could do about it. He buried his head in his arms and nodded. 

"Hmm." Nevada pressed the blunt head of his cock against Sonny's rim, rubbing circles around the tight muscles as he listened to the detective's breathing pick up, quickly becoming ragged as he continued to tease. "Me too."

The sensation was neither as instant nor intense as it had been in his mouth, but Sonny could feel the effects of Nevada's precome slowly building, the nerves around his entrance beginning to buzz with a dull but pleasant warmth that was making his own cock drool with anticipation. " _Fuck me_ ," he begged.

Nevada entered him easily; a quick, smooth thrust that made Sonny's jaw drop and his eyes roll back. Face down all this time, he hadn't realized that Nevada had hardened considerably, but there wasn't a single trace of the sharp burn that would normally come with taking something that size. Sonny finally understood _why_ Nevada's body was producing those chemicals, and he moaned with the realization that his body could only feel pleasure.

"You okay?"

" _Yes_ ," Sonny breathed. He twisted an arm behind himself, tangling his fingers in the thick fur of Nevada's hip and tugging. "More."

Nevada lowered himself onto his elbows, pressing himself against the detective's back, and slowly pushed forward. Sonny felt him brush his prostate, then warm, heavy balls against his own, and he sighed in pleasure. 

" _More_ ," he begged again, conscious of the fact that he was being greedy but too high on endorphins to be self-conscious about it. 

Nevada laughed again, a low rumble that Sonny could feel in his chest. "'S all I got, _jefe_."

He didn't mean to, but Sonny heard himself whine in disappointment. He wrapped both arms around Nevada's solid bicep, arching his back and pressing his ass up against Nevada's hips with a suggestive moan.

The first thrust grazed his prostate again, milking a few beads of precome from Sonny's cock. Nevada hadn't prepped him particularly well, but he'd used an excessive amount of lube, and without the familiar dry tug of skin against skin Sonny was free to focus on the feeling of being held wide open around Nevada's cock.

He'd wanted it deep, and Nevada was giving it to him deep, but Sonny had failed to calculate just how big he was. The head of his cock was buried too far inside the detective to offer anything other than infuriatingly indirect stimulation; the occasional gentle graze against his prostate that made his cock twitch with need where it was pinned between his belly and the sheets.

Nevada was thrusting, but shallowly; clearly taking it easy on him, for which he certainly wasn't ungrateful. His rim was almost entirely numb, but he could still feel the heat of Nevada's erection and the steady rush of cool air over his entrance where it met the mess of lube and precome that had begun to drip down towards his balls.

His ass was so warm, so pliable from use, so _open_ , and the slick, easy glide of Nevada inside him was slowly driving him insane. He was painfully hard, and while he could normally come from penetration alone, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to with all of the sensations so dulled. He ground his cock into the mattress with a groan of frustration, hands curling into fists as a wave of pleasure bloomed in his groin.

Nevada moved with him as Sonny began to rut against the bed, countering his frantic rhythm with increasingly deep thrusts. Sonny was holding on to him for dear life, his face buried in the crook of Nevada's elbow as each precise, jarring thrust had him gasping with need, his breaths coming shorter, his hole clenching harder, his balls pulling up tighter. 

With Nevada continually skimming his prostate, the detective was beginning to feel a slight warmth building there, too; a very alien feeling, yet one that was quite pleasant. His toes curled with the first wave of tingles and he moaned into Nevada's fur, instinctively spreading his legs wider as he felt himself spasm around the thick cock in his ass.

" _Fuck_." Nevada stilled, gripping Sonny's thighs with both hands. "Too tight, 'm gonna come."

" _Inside_." Sonny shuddered as Nevada throbbed hard in response. " _Come in me_."

"Can't."

" _Why?_ " The question came out far more needy than Sonny had intended, but he didn't have it left in him to feel ashamed. 

"There are..." Nevada paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts enough to find a word that wouldn't scare the detective away. "Incompatibilities."

"Is your jizz gonna burn a hole in my guts?"

Nevada snorted with amusement, his breath hot on the back of Sonny's neck. "No."

"Then do it."

"No."

"Don't tell me you aren't feeling territorial." A low snarl told Sonny that he'd hit the mark with that one, and he felt a prickle of anticipation travel down the length of his spine. He wiggled his ass against Nevada's hips, barely feeling the slight tug at his rim. "Go ahead, _make me yours_."

Nevada laid one broad forearm between Sonny's shoulders and wrapped the other hand around his hip, pressing his chest to the detective's back as he drove himself deeper with a low growl. "This what you want?"

Sonny nodded eagerly, taking another hard thrust with a hoarse, desperate moan that he barely recognized as his own voice. He felt a swell of pressure with the first warm rush of Nevada's come, and the sensation rapidly grew rather than subsiding, pressing against his walls and opening him up from the inside out. 

"Fuck, Nevada— _fuck, what is that?!_ "

"'S an incompatibility."

"Get it out," Sonny demanded, kicking at Nevada's legs in an attempt to dislodge him. " _Get it out of me_."

"Quit it, you'll hurt yourself." Nevada pressed the tips of his claws into Sonny's shoulder with a warning growl as the detective ignored him and continued to squirm. " _Ya basta_." 

The threat of claws was enough to shock some sense into Sonny, and he froze for a moment, assessing the situation. His breathing had spiked and caused his heart rate to do the same, magnifying the sudden rush of anxiety although he wasn't in any real pain. He took several deep breaths, calming himself somewhat.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." It _didn't_ hurt, but Sonny almost wished that it did. Without any sort of pain, there was nothing to distract him; nothing to mask the feeling of his walls being stretched to accommodate whatever Nevada had put in him. "It's too big, take it out."

"Can't. Not without hurting you."

"Hurt me, then, just—"

"No."

“Fine.” Sonny sighed. He was a damp, sweaty, sticky mess, and roughly four hundred well-insulated pounds of werewolf directly on top of him wasn't helping the situation in the slightest. He elbowed Nevada in the ribs. "At least get off of me."

"Alright." Nevada pushed himself up on his hands, giving the detective some breathing room. "I'm gonna pick you up."

Sonny didn't have the energy to protest. Nevada wrapped one arm around his stomach and the other around his hips, holding the detective firmly in place as he carefully peeled him off the bed. He kept Sonny close to his body, taking great pains not to cause him any unnecessary discomfort while he readjusted the pair of them, sitting back against the pillows with Sonny settled squarely in his lap. 

The cool air against his skin was a relief, and Sonny slumped back against Nevada's solid chest with an exhausted sigh, absentmindedly stroking the forearm that was still wrapped loosely around his stomach. 

" _Lo siento_. I shouldn't've done that."

"It's okay, I told you to." 

"You're dangerous, you know that?"

Sonny scoffed. "Hardly."

"Have me making stupid decisions just 'cause you're cute."

"Well, I think I can take fisting off my bucket list now." Sonny gingerly attempted to reposition himself more directly on Nevada's cock to alleviate some of the pressure. It worked, but only slightly, and both men groaned at the small adjustment. "What is that, anyway?"

"A knot. Here," Nevada slipped his hand between Sonny's legs and pressed two fingers to his entrance, pushing himself deeper from the outside to ease some of the strain on the detective's rim. "Squeeze."

Sonny obediently tightened around Nevada, whimpering quietly as his taut muscles twinged in protest. "Does that help?"

"No. Feels fuckin' good though."

"Are you—" Sonny twisted in his lap, fixing Nevada with a stare of disbelief. " _I'm stuck here on your dick and you're still thinking about getting off?!_ "

Nevada ducked, grinning as he narrowly avoided being cuffed upside the head. " _Ay_ , no need for jealousy. Look, we can get you off, too."

Sonny was still hard despite himself, and he cursed as Nevada's hand closed around him. The pads on his fingertips were warmer than he'd expected, and just rough enough to add a slight edge to the pleasure that he felt as Nevada began to stroke his cock. 

He looked shamefully small in Nevada's fist, obscured from base to crown, and Sonny watched the last inch of himself disappear completely as Nevada drew his hand upwards. His fingers closed around the detective's leaking slit and he twisted his hand slightly, smearing precome over the head of Sonny's erection before letting it push back into view, easing his fist open as he slid his hand back down towards his balls. 

Nevada knew what he was doing. Tight and slow on the way up, and loose and easy on the way down, his fingers catching the edge of Sonny's sensitive crown each time and drawing soft noises from him with each stroke. Unable to move more than a few inches, Sonny could do nothing but stare, his breathing quickly becoming more and more irregular as Nevada effortlessly drew him closer and closer to the edge. 

"Does it scare you if I do this?" 

Sonny’s eyes widened as Nevada slowly eased all five claws out just millimeters from his delicate skin. " _Yes_ ," he whispered, trembling slightly as Nevada continued to slowly jerk him off. 

"In a bad way?"

"No, Christ, _keep going_."

As much as his body wanted to, Sonny was unable to thrust up into Nevada's fist, and he ground his teeth in frustration. Nevada's grip was firm and steady, but his rhythm was too slow to provide the last little bit of friction that Sonny needed. A single claw grazed his skin and he hissed, one raised, red line quickly blooming into existence along the side of his shaft. He whined and dug his fingers into Nevada's thighs, trying not to buck as he twitched in his palm.

"Good?" Nevada asked, somehow misreading the sound of desperation as one of approval. 

Sonny shook his head. " _Faster_."

Nevada doubled his pace, and the results were near-instantaneous. Sonny saw stars, barely registering the other man's groan as he came, his overworked ass clamping down hard around Nevada's cock still buried in him. His own erection throbbed and pulsed in Nevada's grip, thick strands of come glistening against dark fur as they ran over his fingers and dripped down his wrist. 

The aftershocks were overwhelming, intensified by the baseball-sized knot lodged tightly inside his entrance, and Sonny closed his eyes and let his head fall back against Nevada's shoulder as he rode out the tail end of his orgasm. 

He didn't move. He wasn't sure if he _could_ move. The adrenaline that had been keeping him going was gone, and his muscles were sore, and his limbs felt like jelly, and he was having trouble stringing his thoughts together. Which was fine, really, because he didn't need to move or think anymore. He nestled his head between Nevada's soft, warm pecs and let out a heavy, satisfied sigh. 

The deep, steady rise and fall of his chest was unbelievably soothing, and Sonny focused on slowing his breathing to match, barely realizing that he was drifting off. Nevada's knot shifted inside him, and the half-asleep detective moaned under his breath as he realized that it was finally beginning to shrink. 

"Let's go get you a towel, champ."

"Don't need one," Sonny mumbled, too tired to even consider opening his eyes. 

"Yes you do." Nevada carried him to the bathroom and back, laying two towels on the bed before carefully bending double to set a boneless, shaky Sonny face-down on top. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Nevada attempted to withdraw, making it no more than an inch before Sonny shuddered and clenched hard, drawing him back in with a curse. 

" _Sueltame_."

"I'm _trying_." Sonny glared at Nevada over his shoulder. "Do it again."

Nevada pulled again, and Sonny pushed with him this time, nearly sobbing in relief as Nevada's knot slipped out of him. Cold air rushed into his gaping ass and an obscene amount of come gushed over his balls, pooling around his soft cock. It soaked through the first towel in seconds, but Sonny didn't have the energy to move out of the lukewarm mess between his legs. 

"You okay?"

He nodded. He had no idea what sort of shape he was in down there, and he wasn't about to ask. 

"Is now a good time to tell you that I need you gone before ten?"

" _Fuck you_ ," Sonny muttered. He hadn't considered whether he'd be asked to stay, but he wasn't particularly surprised that he was being kicked out. "What time is it?"

"Four."

"You think I'm gonna be walking in six hours?"

Nevada glanced at Sonny's ass, looking more than a bit guilty. "I can have someone drive you, if—"

"Shut up."

Nevada's ears perked up and he blinked, and Sonny nearly laughed at the comical look of surprise on his face. He reached for Nevada's arm and pulled weakly, grateful when he didn't have to work for it. 

Nevada rejoined him on the bed and let Sonny push him onto his back without protest, though he clearly hadn't expected the detective to want anything more to do with him. Sonny didn't bring it up. He rolled onto his side, grimacing as more come dribbled over the back of his thigh, and gently kissed the light patch on Nevada's chest.

"Let me sleep it off," he mumbled, wriggling into Nevada's armpit and pulling his arm over himself as a makeshift blanket. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Shoot."

"If I scratch—"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes to your question."

"But you don't even know what I was gonna ask."

Nevada sighed. "You were gonna ask if my leg shakes when you scratch my ribs."

"Oh. Well, yeah— _wait, really?_ "

"'S a reflex, _culero_. You go to the doctor, he hits you in the knee, you kick. Same thing."

"Yeah." Sonny wasn't listening, too busy picturing Nevada on his back, panting happily with one hind leg bouncing in the air. 

"Fuckin' kill you if you try it."

"Yeah," he repeated, already inching his fingers towards Nevada's right side.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to [message](https://fuckerao3.tumblr.com/ask) or [DM](https://www.tumblr.com/message/fuckerao3) me with questions, suggestions, or requests (no promises), or if you'd like to beta!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the 16th](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814816) by [minato34n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minato34n/pseuds/minato34n)




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